


The Story of Eurydice

by katzengefluster



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, all i will say is - trust me, but i dunno maybe not?, technically i should be tagging for character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katzengefluster/pseuds/katzengefluster
Summary: It's been one year since that ill fated trip to New Orleans—one year since Bobby held a dying Hanbin in his arms. He's going back at the advice of his therapist, and he's bringing the rest of iKON with him. But weird things start happening after he visits the tomb of voodoo priestess Marie Laveau, and he wonders if his love is truly strong enough to bring someone back from the dead.





	The Story of Eurydice

**Author's Note:**

> ♥♥Celebrating Day Three of Double B Week!!♥♥
> 
> Keywords: For A Funeral + Leap of Faith
> 
> Notes: This was inspired by my love of New Orleans, my own travels to the city, and my desire to write a story set there. This is set in canon (with the exception of the death) and has some supernatural elements to it. Also includes my very first scene of a tarot card reading, that I did a bunch of research for and am quite proud of. ;)
> 
> Draws upon the Greek myth of Eurydice and Orpheus, of leading someone back from the afterlife. ♥

He’s had this dream dozens of times but something feels different about it. He’s with Hanbin, they’re walking down Decatur Street. They stop in front of Big Easy Daiquiris because Bobby wants to get a Hurricane and a slice of pizza. Hanbin doesn’t want either. He wants beignets at Cafe Du Monde. Bobby whines in a way that he knows will force Hanbin into giving in quickly, and this is where the dream changes.   
  
Hanbin shakes his head and looks at him, and Bobby can feel the intense disappointment punch him in the gut.   
  
“You should have had the beignets.”   
  
Bobby’s woken up by the sound of the gun shot and he bolts upright in bed, crying out in half-sleep.   
  
“HANBIN!”   
  
Seconds later and Jinhwan’s there, fingers tightening around his wrist.   
  
“It’s okay, Jiwon, you’re okay.”   
  
He’s not okay. He’ll never be okay.   
  
“He’s right, Jinan, he’s right,” Bobby doesn’t explain, doesn’t have to. He hears Jinhwan sigh, knows what he’s about to say before he says it.   
  
“You have to let him go, Jiwon. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”   
  
How do you stop dreams, though? How do you stop your thoughts from wandering on those dark paths they won’t go down when you’re awake? Bobby’s desperate for answers, because he can’t help himself.   
  
“You didn’t take your pills, did you?”   
  
Bobby hears the accusation in Jinhwan’s voice, and maybe Jinhwan could be more polite about it, but Bobby can’t fault him. It’s been nearly a year since Hanbin’s death and Bobby barely feels like he’s made any progress.   
  
“Take your pills and sleep, okay?” Jinhwan thrusts them at him along with a glass of water, but Bobby refuses them.   
  
“No, it’s too late, I’ll sleep too late if I take them now.”   
  
Jinhwan keeps pushing. “It doesn’t matter how long you sleep. It’s not like we have anywhere to be.”   
  
Bobby isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he thinks that maybe he can hear a note of blame in Jinhwan’s voice.  _ Hanbin is gone and you haven’t done anything to help us move on. You just lie there and pine away; you’re the reason why we’re all stuck. Just get over it, Jiwon, get over it! _   
  
Jinhwan’s never said it, but Bobby’s certain he’s thinking it.   
  
That might just be lingering effects of his survivor’s guilt, though. That’s probably what his therapist would say.  _ You feel guilty that you were unharmed, and that guilt is preventing you from allowing yourself the opportunity to grieve. You are allowed to grieve, Jiwon, it’s important to grieve. _   
  
He takes the pills and swallows them because he doesn’t want to disappoint Jinhwan anymore, not when Jinhwan has been there for him more than anyone. Jinhwan puts the glass back on the bedside table and smoothes Bobby’s hair from his forehead.   
  
Bobby clutches at his hand as the drowsiness kicks in. “Stay with me, Nani?”   
  
Jinhwan tenses just a little at the nickname. Before his death Hanbin had been the only one that ever called Jinhwan by that name. Hearing it out of Bobby’s lips is bittersweet. Jinhwan isn’t sure if Bobby does it because he thinks it helps, or if he’s just clinging too hard to Hanbin’s memories and doesn’t realize he’s saying it.   
  
Jinhwan lies down next to him and continues patting Bobby’s head until he dozes off. Jinhwan waits until Bobby’s breathing evens out before he lets himself cry.   
  
He’s spent more nights like this than he wants to admit, and it never gets any easier.   
  
Jinhwan wakes up first (Bobby will be asleep for a few more hours) and leaves his room. Junhoe’s in the kitchen brewing coffee, and when he notices Jinhwan he hands him his cup.   
  
“Did I hear Bobby hyung yelling again last night, or did I imagine it?”   
  
Jinhwan takes a sip and sits down, too drained to offer words of gratitude. “You heard him.”   
  
Junhoe pours himself a cup and sits down opposite Jinhwan. “He’s not getting any better, we can all see it.” Jinhwan doesn’t respond, so Junhoe continues. “What are we supposed to do, hyung? I mean, I miss Hanbin, you know I do. But I miss singing too. Don’t we have to think about, you know, about moving on?”   
  
Jinhwan doesn’t respond because he doesn’t have an answer (at least not one that he likes). He knows Junhoe is right. They can’t grieve forever, and if Bobby can’t get over it, is it right to make the rest of them wait for him?   
  
Everyone looks to him to make decisions these days, but he’s tired. He’s exhausted, and all he wants is to wake up and see Hanbin walk through their door, a new demo song that he’s spent all night recording loaded on his phone for them to listen to.   
  
But he’ll never have that again, and it’s difficult to accept it.   
  
“Hyung?”   
  
He looks at Junhoe again and wonders if he missed anything else he’d said. He takes another sip of coffee and steels his nerves.   
  
“I’ll talk to sajangnim, okay? Then we’ll talk to the others and see what they have to say.”   
  
That’s the best he can offer. Junhoe nods and they sip their coffee in silence.   
  


* * *

  
“My therapist thinks I should go back.”   
  
Jinhwan looks at him in surprise. “Why?”   
  
Bobby shrugs (not because he doesn’t know, but because he doesn’t feel like repeating it). “She just thinks I’m too hung up and that maybe if I go there, like confront the spot where it happened, maybe it’ll help me move on.” He prays Jinhwan isn’t going to ask him why she thinks it’ll work, because he’s exhausted after the session and just doesn’t want to think for a while. But she said taking the trip would be important for him, especially since the one year mark is coming up.   
  
Nothing else has helped so far, so he’s ready to try.   
  
“Do you want us to come with you?” Jinhwan isn’t going to let him go alone, but it would be impolite to not ask and just assume.   
  
“She said she thinks it would help, if you all came. But like, if it’s gonna be hard for any of you, then that’s okay. No one has to come.”   
  
Jinhwan takes his hand, fingers squeezing Bobby’s palm. “We’ll be there for you. All of us.”   
  


* * *

  
He isn’t sure how to describe what it feels like to be back. The weather is different from the previous year, it’s muggy and humid and Bobby almost feels like choking on it. It was cooler last year, the air felt crisp and fresh.   
  
“Ugh, they weren’t kidding about the unseasonal heat,” Junhoe grumbles as he steps outside and yawns, “it feels like July in Seoul.”   
  
“It’s supposed to rain tonight, hopefully that should clear up the mugginess,” Donghyuk chimes in. But Bobby can’t help but think that it’s just a sign that he shouldn’t have come. He won’t find closure here, he’ll only find more heartache, more stubborn memories to cling on to.   
  
He and Hanbin had come last year because Hanbin had wanted the inspiration. New Orleans hadn’t been on his radar until three months prior, when Raesung had come across a New Orleans-based pair of rappers who called themselves $uicideboy$. They’d spent a night jamming to some of their tracks, and it wasn’t until Hanbin started looking up references in their songs that he’d inevitably wound up fascinated by the city and some of its history.   
  
Bobby had been itching to visit friends in Virginia anyway, and when Hanbin had casually mentioned his newfound interest in New Orleans, Bobby had asked him if he wanted to spend a few weeks in the US, if he’d be interested in a road trip. It was only fourteen hours from Virginia to New Orleans, and Bobby had pried him with hopeful promises that they probably wouldn’t even get recognized anywhere, so they could have some much desired freedom.   
  
That and he also really wanted Hanbin to meet the rest of his friends. Things between them were pretty serious.   
  
Hanbin had agreed, and he’d phrased his request to the CEO as needing a break for some inspiration in a new place, and there they were, boarding a plane to the US in early April, just the two of them. It was the first time they’d ever gone anywhere on their own (no managers, no security, just Bobby and Hanbin). It had been a trip full of happiness and positive energy. Hanbin had filled half a notebook with lyrics about their travels. Bobby still had it, he kept it in his room. He’d never been able to read it, though.   
  
But now the cloying air and intense pressure from the impending storm has him feeling on the verge of tears, so he kneels on the sidewalk and pretends to rummage for something in his backpack.   
  
_ God, Hanbin, I miss you so much. _   
  
He hears Donghyuk talking to someone in English, asking where the car rental lot is. Only Yunhyuk has come with them. Jaeho had wanted to come, but he’d ended up with family obligations he couldn’t neglect.   
  
Jinhwan taps him on the head when they’ve found their destination and Bobby stands back up and shoulders his bag. He refuses to look any of them in the eye. He can’t make himself do it.   
  
An hour later they’ve checked into their hotel. Bobby frowns when he enters the room he’s sharing with Jinhwan. When he and Hanbin had come they’d stayed in the French Quarter, at an old boutique hotel converted from a former mansion. Lafitte’s Guest House—Room 21, the  _ haunted _ room. Bobby had been surprised when Hanbin had mentioned it. Sometimes Hanbin didn’t scare at all over things, other times he was a complete baby. When Bobby had asked him about the ghost, Hanbin had just grinned at him and said  _ “I’ll be fine because you’ll be with me” _ and though Bobby had been touched at first, Hanbin had ruined it a second later when he’d joked that if anything happened he’d just lock Bobby in the room with the ghost.   
  
They’re staying at a newer place now, which is good. But Bobby longs to fall asleep in the old guest house, longs to wake up in the morning with his face plastered to Hanbin’s back.   
  
_ This isn’t going to work if you don’t let things go. _   
  
He lays down on the bed, face-first, and wonders what he’s supposed to do. She’d told him to come back, to face the scene of Hanbin’s death. But that will take minutes at most. What else is he supposed to do? The city is nothing but scenes touched by memories he’s made with Hanbin. He’s going to see him everywhere.   
  
“Junhoe just texted me, he said the others all want to have a bit of a nap before doing anything. You okay with that?”   
  
Bobby doesn’t reply, not even when Jinhwan sits down next to him and leans over, an arm tucking itself right into Bobby’s chest. “I’ll do whatever you want, okay? I’m here for you.” Jinhwan’s voice is light and Bobby can smell his peppermint gum. Hanbin had always preferred fruit flavoured gums...   
  
Bobby can’t help but feel guilty. This is the first time any of them are coming here. The city is loud and exciting, full of places waiting to be explored. His mood will just drag them all down.   
  
Minutes pass before Jinhwan speaks again. “You’re not the only one who misses him.”   
  
It’s almost like he can read Bobby’s mind, but even so—   
  
“None of you were there when it happened,” Bobby whispers back, “I was the one that watched him die. You can’t understand what that was like.” They’ve had this discussion numerous times before too—Bobby knows they’re all just trying to relate to him, but for some reason he can’t stop comparing. Jinhwan always tells him the same thing:  _ grief isn’t a competition, we’re all hurt, why do you always have to say you have it worse? _   
  
Jinhwan stiffens and Bobby wonders if he’s going to hear the lecture.   
  
“No, I can’t. But I’m here with you now, and I want to help you. Please don’t keep me out.”   
  
Bobby flips over and pushes his head into Jinhwan’s stomach, because that’s about as much as he can open up right now. He falls asleep to Jinhwan’s fingers combing through his hair.   
  
When he wakes up later the sun is still out, and he looks around for Jinhwan. He’s sitting on the couch, staring off into space. Bobby watches him for a moment, notices how tired and defeated he looks. It’s all there in the way he’s hunkered down, like he’s trying to stay as small as possible.   
  
It’s probably the first time in months that Bobby realizes how hard this must be on him. It’s easy to forget in the face of his own grief that Jinhwan was every bit as close to Hanbin as he was himself. They may not have been romantically intimate, but that doesn’t make it any less important.   
  
Bobby wishes he could do something for Jinhwan, but it’s hard to help someone else when you can’t even help yourself.   
  
Jinhwan must sense that he’s awake because he turns his head then and their eyes meet. Seconds pass before Jinhwan cracks a small smile at him. Bobby wishes he could return it, but he can’t. He does sit up, though, and that’s just as good.   
  
“Are the others still sleeping?”   
  
Jinhwan shrugs. “Donghyuk’s up, he said he was going down to the cafe to get some coffee. I think Junhoe is still sleeping, and I haven’t heard from the others. Are you hungry?”   
  
Bobby shrugs. Food isn’t really on his mind, but he supposes it has been a very long time since he’s eaten, so it would be a good idea. “I guess we should get some food.”   
  
Jinhwan grabs his phone and starts sending messages, leaving Bobby to lay back down and stare at the ceiling.   
  
It doesn’t matter how many times he prays about it—it’s almost been a year and he’s never felt even a sliver of peace. His therapist tells him that it’s normal—Hanbin’s death was accidental, there was no malice against him, so there’s no motive for Bobby to follow up on. He’s stuck at the first stage, he’s stuck at the question:  _ why did it have to be Hanbin? _ There were a number of other people on the street at the time. Why did the shooter pick that moment? Why was his aim off from his target?   
  
Why?   
  
He doesn’t get up until Jinhwan prods at him, and he only changes his outfit because Jinhwan tells him to. Nearly a year later, and he can still barely function on his own.   
  
They go across the street for dinner, and Bobby is grateful that it’s a place he and Hanbin never went to—the Creole House Restaurant. He has no memory of this place. Maybe that means he’ll actually be able to eat a full meal, for once.   
  


* * *

  
“It’s just a little further down the street,” Junhoe says, looking at his phone, “like two minutes.”   
  
“Good, I’m starving!” Donghyuk whines, and carries on complaining about how they could have stopped at numerous other places to eat.   
  
Bobby isn’t hungry, though, at least not for a sandwich. He’s in one of those weird moods, the kind where you want  _ something, _ but you just can’t put your finger down on what.    
  
They’re on their third day here now, though they have yet to see the spot of Hanbin’s murder. They didn’t do much on their first day aside from have dinner and relax at their hotel bar. The second day they spent out of the city on a plantation and swamp tour. Today they’ve spent some time wandering around the French Quarter, though Bobby has kept them away from Decatur Street because he’s not ready to face it yet. But now Junhoe is leading them towards some sandwich place he wants to try, but Bobby’s not all that interested in food.   
  
A few seconds later and his attention is caught unexpectedly, like a leaf picked up on a sudden breeze. They’re walking by a hotel and just at the end of it is a bar, a typical setup in the city. But the singer’s voice hooks him and he stops for a moment to listen.   
  
It’s a nice looking place from what he can see through the window and he glances quickly at the others. He doesn’t want to sit in a sandwich shop while the others eat. He wants something a little more peaceful, something like this. He quickly grabs Jinhwan’s arm.   
  
“I’m not really feeling hungry, so I think I’m just gonna stop in here for a bit, have a drink and listen to the band play for a while.”   
  
Jinhwan nods, but Bobby can see the concern in his frown. “Okay. Do you want us to grab our food and come eat here with you?”   
  
Bobby shakes his head. “Nah, if you guys have room there to sit and eat, do it. Come find me when you’re done.”   
  
Jinhwan looks like he’s about to protest, but suddenly understanding softens his face. “You just want a bit of time alone?” Bobby nods, and Jinhwan reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Alright, we’ll take our time eating and we’ll come join you for a drink when we’re done.”   
  
Bobby feels relieved at how easily Jinhwan accepts it, and he makes his way into the place, the singer’s voice drawing him in like a beacon. It’s quite fancy; he takes a seat at one of the side tables, sinking down into the leather chair, closing his eyes for a moment just to listen.   
  
_ Hanbin would have liked this place. _   
  
He’s called out of his stupor by a waitress, who’s come to inquire about getting him a drink. He glances at the drink menu, but he isn’t feeling picky at all. “What would you recommend?”   
  
She doesn’t look at the menu, and instead of giving recommendations based on flavour, she asks him how he’s feeling. The question catches him off guard, so he tells her the truth.   
  
“I lost someone real important to me a year ago,” he explains, and she nods in understanding.   
  
“Do you want something to lift your mood, or something to match your mood?”   
  
His answer surprises him. “Something to lift it.” She beams a smile at him and tells him she’ll be right back, and he smiles to himself before leaning back in the chair and listening to the music. He actually feels a little better after admitting it to her.   
  
She’s back a minute later with a martini glass that she lays on a coaster in front of him. There’s a thin slice of lemon floating in the middle of the glass, and on top of that rests a daisy. He can’t help but smile at it, and once again the same old thought repeats itself inside his head.   
  
_ Hanbin would have loved this. _   
  
“It’s a Lemon Drop, hope you like it!” she tells him with a smile and a pat on the shoulder before moving away to another table. He picks up the glass and looks at it, and maybe it’s weird but he feels just a tiny bit of peace while staring at the flower. Hanbin loved flowers, and even though Bobby didn’t share the same passion, he’d always indulged Hanbin’s interest, just to see him smile.   
  
The drink itself is surprisingly refreshing—it’s sweet but not overbearing. It almost feels like he’s drinking a bit of sunshine. He puts the drink down as soon as the thought crosses his mind, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply.   
  
He focuses on the music because his thoughts have traversed into dangerous territory now, he can tell by the tears in his eyes. He feels like he’s stuck in a weird in-between space: the sunshine drink asking him to move on, but his own heart can’t bear the thought of leaving Hanbin’s ghost behind.   
  
That’s when he pays attention to the song.   
  
“ _ I'll be your Orpheus if you'll be my Eurydice _ _   
_ _ Please come to me oh baby _ _   
_ _ Please come back to me _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I waited by the river that lay just beyond the sea _ _   
_ _ Oh love I couldn't see you _ _   
_ _ Please come back to me _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It's been a year of waiting now on hand and bended knee _ _   
_ _ I had something to ask you _ _   
_ _ Please come back to me _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Time will pass in earnest and I will always grieve _ _   
_ _ I know that it's not possible _ _   
_ _ But please come back to me _ _   
_ _   
_ _ So I sing my song as Orpheus for my Eurydice _ _   
_ _ My song will never falter  
_ _ And I will never leave” _   
  
He sits in silence for the whole thing, and though he doesn’t recognize the reference he feels a connection to the meaning. It’s a beautiful melody, and something in the voice feels comforting. It’s the last song of the set and the musicians break for a bit, and before he can talk himself out of it Bobby’s on his feet, walking up to them.   
  
They have albums for sale, and he fumbles in his wallet for a bill. He passes it over and his eyes lock with the singer’s, and he’s pretty sure his question surprises the other man.   
  
“Who were the names in that last song?” He’s not sure why he’s asking, but it feels important to him, he feels like he needs to know. The singer tilts his head a little and smiles.   
  
“They’re characters from Greek mythology,” he says, and Bobby nods.   
  
“What’s their story?” He could always look it up himself, but he feels a connection to the man, and he’s got a connection to the song, and he wants to understand it.   
  
“Well, it’s a sad one, I’m sure you can tell,” he begins, pausing to take a sip of the drink the waitress sets down for him, “Orpheus was a musician, whose music charmed all creatures who heard it. Eurydice, his wife, was a tree nymph. She died, and he mourned her so deeply that his music touched the heart of Hades, who allowed him to enter the Underworld to lead her back to the land of the living.”   
  
Bobby’s heart gives him a sad jolt at the story—but immediately he can see the allure of using it in song. He would gladly spend all his time composing a song so beautiful it would will Hanbin back to him.   
  
“Did he get her back?”   
  
At that the singer frowns. “Unfortunately, no. The condition imposed upon him was that he must walk in front of her on their journey from the Underworld, and he could not look back at her. He made it to the very end, and when he finally emerged into the light of day he forgot his one rule and looked over his shoulder, but she had not yet crossed the threshold, and so she was bound to remain in the land of death.”   
  
Bobby frowned, and his heart hurt at the outcome. Why don’t old myths ever have happy endings?   
  
“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you using their story?” He thinks he knows why, and it’s not really his business, but he has this feeling that maybe he needs to connect with someone who’s gone through what he’s gone through.   
  
The singer takes another sip from his glass before answering, and his eyes watch Bobby with a sympathetic expression. “Because that’s the true story of mourning for a loved one, isn’t it? We would do anything to bring our loved ones back, but nothing can ever reverse death. Instead we grieve, and our expressions of love are what keep that person’s spirit alive and with us. I lost my girlfriend last year, and I wrote this for her. Even though it won’t bring her back, I still visit her grave and sing to her, and it comforts me.”   
  
Bobby nods at the touching story, and maybe the singer can see it in his eyes that he’s had similar troubles of his own.   
  
“Have you lost someone?” Bobby nods, though he doesn’t say any more. “How long has it been?”   
  
“Almost a year,” he answers.   
  
“You should visit the tomb of Marie Laveau,” the singer suddenly suggests, and Bobby looks at him in curiosity, “the voodoo priestess of New Orleans. Some would call it bullshit, but I felt peace in my heart after my visit.”   
  
“What did you do?” Bobby asks, because he’s not about to turn down any suggestions.   
  
“I just visited, lit a candle, and asked her to safeguard her soul. The next morning I woke up with a lightness in my heart that I hadn’t felt since her death, and even though I miss her, I’m not drowning in grief.”   
  
Bobby actually thinks about it, and when he sits back down in his chair he looks up the tomb, reads the history until the music starts up again.   
  
He’s always been a very religious person, but he’s not ashamed to admit that his devotion has slipped a bit during the past year. Not so much his belief in God, but his belief that all things are a part of God’s plan. Instead he’s been left with the thought that things happen simply because they happen, and no amount of praying will help. Prayers are simply a way of expressing your worries and concerns to someone whose face you don’t have to look at on a daily basis. It’s a safe place to unravel because no one will judge you.   
  
But prayer doesn’t solve anything, it doesn’t help anyone.   
  
He doesn’t think praying to this old voodoo priestess will help either, but maybe it will because she’s a stranger, she’s an entity who doesn’t know him the way that God knows him. Sometimes you just need to unburden yourself to a stranger.   
  
So he’s going to do it. He’s going to visit her tomb, and he’s going to unravel.   
  


* * *

  
The hardest part of the whole thing is explaining to the others that he needs to go visit a cemetery by himself.   
  
Most of them don’t want to go at all (and he can’t blame them, because he tends to stay away from cemeteries usually) and in the end it’s only Yunhyeong who comes with him. Jinhwan had wanted to come as well, but Bobby was the one who asked him not to.  _ ‘You’ve had to babysit me through too many upsetting moments. Please take this one off.’ _ So the others are going to a fancy bar at a hotel (there’s a carousel in the main bar, it was on Donghyuk’s list of places to visit) while Bobby and Yunhyeong go to the cemetery.   
  
Even though Bobby doesn’t really want company, he’s still grateful to Yunhyeong for coming. Yunhyeong has tried over the past year to help him, and Bobby knows he hasn’t exactly expressed his gratitude. But Yunhyeong doesn’t do things because he wants praise—he does them because they need to be done.   
  
They walk there in silence. The sky is a dreary grey and heavy clouds hang low, so Bobby is sure that it’s going to rain. But he needs to do this, he needs to see the tomb. Over the span of the past hour it’s gone from a mild interest into a near obsession, and if he doesn’t do it now he won’t be able to focus on anything else for the rest of the night. He doesn’t know if he’s just that desperate for help, that maybe his brain just wants some kind of placebo to help when he confronts the scene later.   
  
The silence doesn’t last long, because once they reach the cemetery they’re both taken aback at the eery beauty of the place. The tombs stand like tiny houses and there’s something powerful in the air that has nothing to do with the oppressive weather. They enter just as a tour group leaves, and Bobby looks up at the dark sky again.   
  
It’s definitely going to rain.   
  
But Yunhyeong doesn’t rush him. Instead he follows him down the rows, making quiet declarations at each tomb. They stop when they reach the family tomb where Marie Laveau’s bones reside, and Bobby looks at the array of offerings visitors have brought.   
  
Yunhyeong touches his arm. “Do you want to be alone for this?” Bobby looks him in the eye and nods, and Yunhyeong smiles softly before patting his head and moving away. Bobby stands there and wonders to himself if he shouldn’t have brought something to offer.   
  
But then it’s not like he really believes in the supernatural power—he’s just looking for a silent therapist.   
  
He kneels before the tomb and takes a moment to breathe, to allow his emotions to creep forward from the dark recesses of his mind where he’s shoved them. He remembers the song at the martini bar, thinks about the myth.   
  
“I miss him,” he says with a shaky voice, but there’s no one around, the threatening sky keeping other visitors away, “he’s gone, and I don’t know what to do anymore. How am I supposed to live without him?”   
  
Only silence greets him back, but there’s something almost magical about the moment. Everything is still and quiet, he can’t even hear Yunhyeong’s footsteps anymore. There’s no wind, only the oppressive air. There’s a density to it that feels almost unnatural, and he struggles to breathe in.   
  
He tells himself that it’s only because of the oncoming storm. There’s nothing supernatural. But he starts to shake anyway, like he’s afraid. He can feel his heart hammering, and without thinking about it he raises his right hand to his chest, over his heart, and it’s exactly what Hanbin used to do when he was nervous, and Bobby massages his chest in that familiar pattern, and he gets the weirdest sensation that  _ he _ isn’t even doing it anymore.   
  
It’s Hanbin’s hand pressed down over his own, Hanbin’s fingers gripping his own, Hanbin’s hand rubbing over his chest—   
  
“Bin-ah?” Bobby whispers the name, almost afraid to say it, but more afraid not to. He doesn’t get an answer, not with words, at least, but he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he feels something tickling his ear, something that feels an awful lot like the soft breath of another person.   
  
“Are you here?” He whispers again and holds his breath, desperate for an answer, but only the soft breath against his ear is there, and he turns his head, trying to look over his shoulder, but suddenly the presence is gone, retreated away from him entirely.   
  
“Bin-ah?” Bobby says the name in a shudder that has him shaking again, and his eyes catch on a silver chain someone has left on the tomb. The chain is swinging softly in the wind, and Bobby almost feels entranced by it. With his eyes locked on the silver he feels the fluttering breath at his ear again and this time he remembers— _ don’t look over your shoulder. _   
  
“Jiwon?”   
  
Yunhyeong calls to him and it breaks the spell. Bobby stands up but stares straight ahead, and Yunhyeong is by his side in an instant, a concerned look on his face.   
  
“What happened? Are you okay? Just calm down, okay, everything’s alright.”   
  
He doesn’t know what’s causing Yunhyeong’s reaction until a few seconds later, when he suddenly finds himself struggling to breathe, like the air itself is forcibly trying to choke him. Or maybe it’s Hanbin’s ghost, driven mad with the desire to be reunited. He feels guilty the moment he thinks it—Hanbin would never, not even in death.   
  
Yunhyeong pats his back reassuringly and holds his hand and repeats, in a loud and strong voice, “You’re okay, Jiwon, you’re okay,” and eventually it soothes him.   
  
But he feels utterly exhausted and he slumps against Yunhyeong suddenly. Yunhyeong’s arms are strong around his back and the next second Bobby’s sobbing, his head pressed into Yunhyeong’s shoulder.   
  
It passes as soon as it came on, and the whole thing actually leaves him feeling slightly confused.   
  
“I’m sorry, man,” he says as he catches his breath, “I don’t know what happened.”   
  
“It’s okay,” Yunhyeong replies, “it’s stressful, I understand.”   
  
“No, that’s not it,” Bobby says, because he wants Yunhyeong to understand that something very weird just happened to him. “I was okay, but then it’s like—I don’t know, I didn’t feel like myself? I felt like,” he doesn’t want to say it, because he doesn’t know how Yunhyeong will react.   
  
“You felt like what?” But Yunhyeong persists, and Bobby just blurts it out.   
  
“I felt like he was here, like he was touching me.” They’re both silent after the admission, and Bobby worries he’s said too much for Yunhyeong.   
  
“You mean Hanbin?” But Yunhyeong just gives him a sad smile, and he squeezes his hand again, and Bobby nods. “Maybe he was.”   
  
Bobby wasn’t expecting that from Yunhyeong, and he watches him for a moment. But neither of them speak further on the subject, because neither of them really want to admit it to each other. Bobby doesn’t believe in ghosts, doesn’t believe in spirits. But maybe, just maybe, there’s some kind of magic here, and maybe it really was Hanbin’s hand on his own.   
  
“Are you ready to go?” Yunhyeong asks. “I felt a few drops of rain.”   
  
Bobby looks up at the sky again—it’s going to pour for sure. “Yeah, let’s go.”   
  
They leave the cemetery and Bobby stops at the gate. He wants to look back, wonders what really just happened. Just his subconscious, making him cry because he needed to in the moment? Or was it something else entirely?   
  
They order an Uber as the rain starts and they manage to miss the majority of it, but just barely. They run from the car into the hotel to meet the others at the carousel bar, and Bobby hesitates when he sees them, because they’re all sitting together, laughing, and he doesn’t want to ruin their mood. He tells Yunhyeong he’s going to the bathroom before he joins them, but instead he sits in the lobby and watches the rain fall in the street outside. It feels oddly comforting, and he stays there until Jinhwan comes looking for him later.   
  
Jinhwan asks him if he wants to go back to the hotel, but Bobby shakes his head. That’s the last thing he wants to do. Instead he gets up and follows Jinhwan back in and he sits down next to Donghyuk and orders a Lemon Drop, because he needs to remind himself that there’s still sunshine, and it will come for him eventually.   
  


* * *

  
They’ve all had a few drinks by the time the rain stops, and Bobby declares suddenly that they should go to the spot of Hanbin’s death then, and he can’t explain why, but he feels like it’s just the right moment for it.   
  
Maybe he just doesn’t think he can handle it sober. It doesn’t matter, though, because the others all agree with him.   
  
They leave the bar and start the walk down, and every footstep closer is like a splash of cold water on his face, so by the time they reach Decatur Street, Bobby feels completely sober. The others are still giggly though, because none of them know how close it is. He doesn’t tell them, because he wants to use their drunken chatter as a shield.   
  
It’s better this way, he thinks, better to spring it on them suddenly. One minute they’re walking along, discussing the scenery and stores, and the next Bobby throws out a hand to stop them, and none of them ask, because they know what it means.   
  
Here, on this street corner, under the overhanging balcony, this is the spot where a complete stranger shot and killed Hanbin, all because Bobby had made him stop so he could get a stupid alcoholic slushie.   
  
You’d never know this was the scene of a murder. There’s nothing here to commemorate it, nothing on the wall except a fresh coat of paint in one corner where the light green had been peppered with red. The blood has long since been washed away from the pavement. There is nothing here to mark the fact that one night, almost an entire year ago, this is where Bobby sat on the ground and held a dying Hanbin in his arms.   
  
The world around it has continued on as usual. The smell of pizza still wafts from the inside, and the brightly coloured slushies still churn in their machines, and the ever-present downtrodden local sits at the lottery machine, hoping for a bit of luck.   
  
_ You should have had the beignets. _   
  
He hears Hanbin’s voice from the dream again, the words bounce around inside his skull, and the guilt of it all slams into him like a train. He leans back against the wall, his breath in his throat, and he suddenly can’t breathe.   
  
Jinhwan takes his hand and snaps his fingers and it breaks Bobby’s trance.   
  
“Hey,” Jinhwan whispers, “you’re okay.”   
  
Bobby takes a shuddering breath in and nods. Jinhwan is right. He’s okay. It all happened here, but just like the world around him, Bobby has to move on. He owes it to everyone who’s been waiting for him, patiently giving him a year of their lives to try and get over the pain.   
  
He needs to move on, doesn’t he? Isn’t that the whole reason he’s come here? To confront this moment and let it all go?   
  
He looks at the others and realizes that they’re all staring at him, waiting, yet again. They’re waiting for him to decide what to do. He needs to let go, even though he doesn’t  _ want _ to let go. They all miss Hanbin, they’d all do anything to have him back. But nothing will bring him back, and they can’t move on until he moves on.   
  
“Let’s get some slushies?” Everyone seems surprised at his request, but it just feels like the right thing to do. It feels like that’s the sign he needs to give that he’s ready to let go. So they all nod and follow him inside, and it feels surreal, to be standing here, a year later, finally about to get the drink that caused the whole mess. There will be time later to talk, to share words and tears he hasn’t shared yet. Right now he just needs to give them a sign that he’ll be okay.   
  
Unlike the rest of the city that prides itself on its love of jazz music, the slushie places are always playing loud dance music, and today is no different. He drums his fingers on the countertop while he waits for his drink—he doesn’t know the song, but the beat is easy to replicate.   
  
It’s not until he’s leaving the place, when he’s right at the door, that he feels that prick of unease settle over him, like he’s being watched from behind. It feels like icicles wrap themselves around the back of his neck and he’s frozen to the spot, and the chorus of the song pierces through him—   
  
_ I, I follow, I follow you, deep sea baby, I follow you _   
  
The timing of it just feels like it can’t be coincidence. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there but the sensation of icicle fingers on his neck remains, until the sensation moves, away from his neck and down his spine, resting at the small of his back, just the way Hanbin used to touch him before Bobby would turn around to kiss him—   
  
He’s about to turn around out of habit, but suddenly he jerks himself forward.   
  
It’s just a stupid myth. Just a stupid old myth.   
  
But what if it’s not? What if the icicles are real? What if he came here not because he couldn’t face it sober, but because the spirit needed a door to follow him through?   
  
The others have gotten a bit ahead of him and he walks calmly through the door, holding his breath when he crosses the threshold. He’s out in the muggy night again, though it no longer feels so oppressive anymore after the rain.   
  
As he crosses the street to rejoin the others he feels it.   
  
Icicles, wrapped around the back of his neck, and that sensation of being watched from behind.   
  
Maybe he’s just drunk again after the seriousness of the situation has cleared. Maybe his brain is fighting him at the thought of moving on. Maybe he’s just desperate to feel something to let him know that he isn’t really alone.   
  
But maybe he’s Orpheus. Maybe it’s real.   
  
He catches up to the others and doesn’t look over his shoulder for the rest of the night.   
  
Just in case.   
  


* * *

  
He wakes up early the next morning with a clear mind. He sits up in bed and looks around, taking in the sight of Jinhwan burrowed underneath the blankets in his own bed. They’d both had a lot to drink the night before, so he’s surprised that he doesn’t have a hangover.   
  
But he’s also surprised that he feels what he can only describe as  _ lighter _ today. It’s almost like what the singer had told him. After speaking to Marie Laveau he feels like he’s no longer drowning in grief.   
  
He gets out of bed and showers, though he refuses to look at himself in the mirror. He isn’t usually superstitious, but that lingering sense of  _ just in case _ is still there in his brain. Jinhwan’s still sleeping by the time he finishes and Bobby sits down beside him. Jinhwan looks peaceful and that makes him feel better. He looks around the room and finds a pen and a small notepad on the desk. He writes Jinhwan a note, not wanting to send him a text and chance waking him up with the noise.   
  
Instead he leaves the paper on his bedside table and leaves the room, heads down to the cafe at the base of the hotel. He doesn’t know if any of the others are up yet, so he decides to check.   
  
Donghyuk is there, sitting by himself at a table that faces out into the street. Bobby walks over to him and sits down.   
  
“Hey, Dong-ie.”   
  
Donghyuk turns to him in surprise, like he’s shocked to see him there. “Morning, hyung,” he replies, nervous eyes watching him, “did you sleep well?”   
  
Bobby nods and realizes that last night is the first night since Hanbin’s murder that he’s managed to sleep soundly through the night without the help of sleeping pills. He knows it wasn’t the alcohol, because he’d tried that already a few months ago to disastrous results. He’s not sure what to think of it.   
  
“I haven’t slept that well in a long time, actually.”   
  
“No hangover?” Donghyuk teases, and Bobby shakes his head.   
  
“No hangover! Must be my lucky day.”   
  
Donghyuk grins at him, almost like he’s relieved. “Are you still drunk, hyung?”   
  
Bobby grins back at him and he realizes at that moment that this is probably the first time in a year that he’s joking around with Donghyuk. No wonder he seems relieved. In a fit of momentary inspiration, Bobby’s asking Donghyuk if he wants to go for breakfast.   
  
“There’s this great place Hanbin and I went to last year, we went a few times actually, it was so good.”   
  
Donghyuk’s staring at him in surprise, clearly shocked to hear Bobby mention Hanbin so casually. But he agrees, trying to cover up his shock with excitement. But Bobby knows, and normally he’d feel guilty about it, but something is different this morning. They pay for Donghyuk’s coffee and leave.   
  
They cross Canal Street and head to the corner of Burgundy. Last year he and Hanbin had visited a different location of the restaurant, closer to the other side of the French Quarter where they’d been staying. But the food would be the same.   
  
“The Ruby Slipper Cafe,” Donghyuk reads, smiling at the sign, “I read reviews about this place! It was on my list.”   
  
Bobby feels immensely relieved to hear that. Of course they’d all taken this trip to help him grieve, but it was still a trip to a new city, and he’d been worried about the others getting to see things they wanted to see. He feels good about letting Donghyuk eat somewhere he’d wanted to visit.   
  
The place is busy, as usual, but the hostess seats them at the bar in the back. Now that he’s here Bobby feels a little weird. His eyes trace over the menu, lingering on all the things Hanbin had eaten.   
  
“This all sounds amazing,” Donghyuk whispers, and Bobby tears his eyes away from the menu to watch Donghyuk. It makes him smile. “Do you know what you’re getting, hyung?”   
  
Every time he’d come with Hanbin, he’d gotten something sweet (but always stealing a bite or two of Hanbin’s meal). He’s tempted by the stuffed french toast, but his heart just can’t let him recreate their last meal so closely like that.   
  
“I’m gonna get the Migas, I didn’t try that last time.”   
  
“That looks good,” Donghyuk replies, “I want to try everything!”   
  
Bobby chuckles at his excitement. “We can come back with the guys another day.”   
  
Donghyuk nods and decides to get the shrimp boogaloo benedict, and Bobby breathes a sigh of relief that he didn’t order anything Hanbin had tried.   
  
They make small talk about the city as they’re waiting, and watch sports highlights on the TV over the bar. Donghyuk quietly asks him how he’s doing and Bobby tells him that he thinks his therapist was right—the trip is actually helping.   
  
He doesn’t tell him about the icicles on his neck, though, or the fact that he refuses to look over his own shoulder. The sensations are still there today. He still feels like he’s being watched. Maybe he’ll feel that way for the rest of the trip. He doesn’t mind, because while it is slightly nerve-wracking, it’s also slightly comforting, feeling like Hanbin is there behind him.   
  
Their food comes and they order Bloody Marys (mostly because they’re adults and no one is around to tell them not to drink at breakfast) and Bobby enjoys himself. It feels weird, to laugh again, to savour food and company.   
  
They finish and Donghyuk goes to the bathroom, so Bobby decides to get the bill.   
  
But then something weird happens.   
  
“Your bill’s already been paid, honey,” the waitress tells him, and Bobby stares at her in confusion.   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
She speaks slower this time, like she thinks that maybe he has trouble understanding English. “Someone already paid. A man already paid for your meal.”   
  
Bobby shakes his head. “What man?”   
  
She shrugs and slides a bill on the counter. “I don’t know, honey, I can’t read his name.”   
  
Bobby looks down at the receipt and feels like his world stops for a moment. His first instinct is to look for Donghyuk, hopes that  _ maybe _ this is just some sick joke. But Donghyuk is nowhere to be found, so he must still be in the bathroom, and Bobby knows he’d never do something like this anyway. Bobby looks back at the receipt with the scrawled signature and he feels like he’s about to throw up.   
  
Because it’s  _ Hanbin’s signature _ on the paper. He knows that handwriting, could probably replicate it himself if he had to. He feels something cold on the back of his neck again and his breathing slows, but he can’t look over his shoulder. He refuses.   
  
The waitress has gone back to her customers and Bobby just sits there and waits. He keeps glancing down at the receipt, willing it to change, willing the handwriting to change. It never does, though, and Hanbin’s signature stares him back in the face.   
  
He feels the same way he felt at the cemetery, like the air is so thick he can barely breathe, and before he realizes it his hand is tapping over his chest again. He takes the receipt from the bar and pockets it, because he needs proof that he’s not seeing things. He needs to look at it outside in the light, because maybe there’s just something weird going on in here.   
  
He barely manages to get himself under control when Donghyuk is back, and together they leave and Bobby feels stupid but he closes his eyes until they get outside, because he just can’t take chances, not with this damn receipt burning a hole in his pocket.   
  
They walk back down Canal Street and Bobby lets Donghyuk lead, listens to him chattering away about something he wants to see. Bobby isn’t really hearing any of it, though, his mind is still hung up on the receipt. He can’t take it out here, it would seem too weird, and maybe it’s too soon, maybe his eyes will just see what they want to see.   
  
Donghyuk turns on Chartres street and Bobby follows, his fingers subconsciously fiddling with the receipt in his pocket. He has that sensation again, like he’s being watched. He tells himself it’s just the people in the street, it’s got nothing to do with spirits.   
  
He’s not sure why he’s fighting himself on this so hard. One second he wants to believe the receipt and all the weird sensations are proof that Hanbin’s spirit is still here. But the next second he wants to say it’s all bullshit, that none of it is real and it’s only his own brain playing tricks on him.   
  
He follows Donghyuk into a sneaker store and tries to distract himself with fancy new shoes. Donghyuk’s chattering away about them and Bobby fights to pay attention, fights to put the receipt out of his brain for a while. Maybe it wasn’t Hanbin’s signature. Maybe his brain got confused, seeing another Korean man’s handwriting in a city where he’s sure they’re the only Koreans.   
  
He tries on shoes that Donghyuk chooses and buys the pair with flowers on them. He promises Donghyuk that he’s not being mopey, that yes, the flowers are for Hanbin, but they also make him happy. Donghyuk’s gullible when he’s worried, so he smiles at the answer and doesn’t think twice about it.   
  
When they finish they get a call from Chanwoo, who’s checking in on plans. They decide to head back to the hotel to drop off their purchases and meet with the others. But before they leave the store Bobby changes his sneakers for the flowered ones. He hopes they’ll remind him to stay positive for the rest of the trip.   
  
But he closes his eyes again when they walk out through the door.   
  
Just in case.   
  


* * *

  
They’ve done so much walking in the past few days that when they get flagged down by an older Chinese man outside a reflexology place, they all cave in to the requests and get foot massages. They have to take turns, though, and Bobby does his first with Jinhwan and Junhoe, while the others head across the street to a small bar for some drinks.   
  
It’s relaxing and Bobby closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. He feels a weird sensation in the palm of his left hand, like a finger tickling it. It makes him think of Hanbin (everything makes him think of Hanbin) and he wonders if this is like the breath at his ear, or the fingers on his neck.   
  
But the sensation barely lasts thirty seconds before it’s gone, and the weirdest thing about it is that for the first time since visiting the cemetery, he doesn’t feel like he’s being watched. The presence that’s been following him around is gone, and he feels oddly empty without it.   
  
But the massage lulls him into a half sleep, so he soon forgets he’s missing anything. After half an hour they finish and Bobby feels relaxed as he pulls his flowered sneakers back on.   
  
They switch places with the others, and while Jinhwan and Junhoe head to the bar, Bobby tells them that he wants to head to the shop next door to buy something for his mother. The store is one of those spirituality places that sell crystals and incense, something his mother has developed a new interest in.   
  
He looks around at the stones, reads their descriptions, but eventually he’s pulled away from the product and over towards the back, and that’s when he sees the sign for the psychic.   
  
He feels a light breath at his ear again and he can’t stop himself from approaching the counter, where he’s greeted by an elderly woman with long blonde hair.   
  
“Hello darling, can I help you?”   
  
Bobby smiles at her sweet tone, and he flushes slightly because he’s not even sure how to bring it up. “Um, I saw the sign for readings, and was wondering…” he trails off but she’s quick to understand his hesitation.   
  
“Would you like to have a reading done?” He nods and she smiles back at him. “Michelle actually has an opening right now, if that works for you. She’s booked for the rest of the day.”   
  
Bobby isn’t sure if he should find that weird or not. “Um, yeah, sure. Now’s good.”   
  
She beams back at him. “Wonderful! What’s your name dear?”   
  
“Kim Jiwon,” he replies quickly, before correcting himself, “um actually sorry, I mean Jiwon Kim. Kim’s my last name.”   
  
She just smiles back at him, like she thinks he’s precious. “Alright dear, let me pencil you in here, and if you could wait for a moment, I’ll go let her know you’ve come in.” He stands by the counter, looking around again at the contents inside the store. He should probably text Jinhwan so he knows what’s going on.   
  
He’s called to the back before he gets the chance. The reading room is decorated in soothing tones and he sits in a chair in front of a middle aged woman with brown hair. Just as he’s about to question himself about what he’s doing here she looks him right in the eyes.   
  
“Hello, Bobby, I was wondering if you’d come to see me.”   
  
He’s startled by her comment, because it almost sounded like she’d been expecting him. “Um, hi.” He’s not sure what else to say.   
  
She’s not surprised, though, and begins shuffling a deck of cards. “You were next door for a while, weren’t you? I could feel your energy all the way over here. It’s very strong.” He stares at her open-mouthed and nods. She just smiles back. “I almost had to stop my previous reading, actually, your aura was overpowering. It’s a good thing I had an opening, isn’t it?”   
  
He nods along to her question, watching her fingers as they deftly shuffle the cards. He can still feel the tickle of breath, but the cold fingers are nowhere to be found. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but at least he’s not alone anymore.   
  
“You’ll be wanting a life spread, correct? Something has happened that we need to address.”   
  
Her question jolts him and he sits up straight, meeting her eyes again. It’s weird, the way she’s looking at him, he almost can’t describe it. It’s like she knows something, but she can’t say what she knows. Suddenly she puts the deck of cards away to the side and opens a box to retrieve a different deck.   
  
“I haven’t used these cards since I got them,” she begins shuffling them, “I hope you don’t mind my using them for the first time on you, but I’ve been waiting for the right person, and I feel like that person is you.”   
  
He doesn’t know what to say. Is this normal? Does it even matter? She carries on talking.   
  
“All of the suits have been replaced with flowers, so you take into account the additional meaning of the flower when doing the reading,” his mouth drops open in shock at the explanation, but she doesn’t seem to notice, “I think that will be perfect for us. Can you please cut the cards for me?”   
  
She lays the stack down on the table in front of him and he glances between her and the cards, and eventually reaches out with a shaky hand. He cuts the deck and she takes the cards back and resumes shuffling.   
  
“I’m feeling very strong energy already, I think this is going to be a very important reading for you.” He watches as she begins laying cards down in a pattern on the table, and she stops at ten and puts the remainder of the deck away before looking back at him.   
  
“This is called a Celtic Cross, each of these cards represent important pieces to your puzzle. We’ll begin with this card,” she slides out the first card she laid down, that was placed underneath another, “this card represents what our reading will be about, it is the current issue plaguing you.”   
  
He’s never really given much thought about this sort of stuff before, has stayed well away from it because it has a negative connotation within his religion. But the moment she flips the card over his breath catches in his throat and it takes all the willpower he has not to jump up from his chair and flee the room.   
  
The card depicts a priest at a funeral, surrounded by grieving family members.   
  
“The five of cups, or rather, tulips, in this deck,” she begins by saying, “this card represents a separation from a loved one. You are currently stuck in the mourning phase, aren’t you?” She looks at him with a soft expression, and he nods.   
  
“My uh, I lost, I lost someone,” he tries to explain, but the words choke him up. How does he explain Hanbin to her? In Korea he’s so used to hiding their relationship, to explaining his grief as the loss of his best friend.   
  
“I feel like this was someone very important to you,” she says, “I’ve felt a great sorrow the moment you showed up next door, suffocating, a choking presence.”   
  
“Sorry.” He quickly apologizes, eyes back on the card.   
  
“Don’t be sorry, love, this is why you’re here. This person was a man, am I correct?”   
  
He looks at her and nods, wonders how she knows, did he say anything to give it away?   
  
“I can feel him. His presence is here with us.”   
  
Bobby bites the inside of his cheek. The moment she says it he feels the cold grip of icy fingers on his neck again. This is too much, isn’t it? He’s toying with things he shouldn’t be toying with. He says a brief prayer up to God, asks forgiveness for meddling with this stuff.   
  
“This card represents a strong desire to go back and do things differently. I sense that about you. Something happened, something that you blame yourself for, and you’re obsessed with the wish to return to that moment and choose differently, aren’t you? Yes, I can feel it. You were in the right place, but at the wrong time.”   
  
He nods, his breath stuck in his throat, and suddenly she reaches across the table for his hand. “Breathe. Don’t be afraid, dear, don’t be afraid.”   
  
Her words are soothing and she waits for him to calm down again before carrying on. It’s bizarre, the way she seems to be able to read his mind. How is it possible? There has to be some way, maybe she searched him up, his name—   
  
_ His name. _   
  
“When I came in, you called me Bobby.” The memory hits him suddenly, and she smiles at him.   
  
“Yes, I did.”   
  
“How did you know? I didn’t tell the lady that was my name.” He’d given his birth name. He’d never mentioned Bobby.   
  
“I kept hearing the name during my previous reading,” she explains, “as I mentioned, I could feel what I assumed was your spirit next door. But I think the name came from him, didn’t it? He’s been here this whole time, ever since he sensed me. You feel him, don’t you?”   
  
He stares at her in shock, his mouth agape. He just nods, tears in his eyes, and she squeezes his hand. “It feels like, like cold fingers on my neck,” he whispers, “like he’s right behind me.”   
  
“How long has he been following you?”   
  
“Since yesterday,” he tells her, “I went to Marie Laveau’s tomb, and since then.” He doesn’t explain about the singer, or visiting the scene of Hanbin’s murder. She smiles softly at him and he’s sure that she doesn’t need to hear everything to believe him.   
  
“I think he was desperate to try and lure you over here,” she replies softly.   
  
That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? He remembers laying in the chair, Hanbin’s ghostly finger tickling the palm of his hand, only for his spirit to retreat completely. Had he really come to visit with the tarot reader? Had he sensed her presence?   
  
“Well dear, let’s give him what he wants then, shall we?” She lets his hand go and reaches for the second card, flipping it over to reveal the picture of a woman in a white dress with a head of grass. But the card is upside down.   
  
“The World, inverted,” she begins, “when cards are inverted we take from them the opposite of their meanings, which is not always a bad thing, dependent upon the card. But in this case, the inverted World signifies a lack of closure. This card represents the thing that is blocking your ability to progress away from your problem. Was the death sudden? Did you have time to say goodbye?”   
  
There’s a shudder in Bobby’s breath at her question, and he shakes his head. “He was shot,” he explains, “he died really quick. I was there, but, it was so fast.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Bobby, death is rarely ever welcome, but one unexpectedly fast is perhaps the worst of all.”   
  
He sighs and nods.  _ Lack of closure. _ That sums it up, doesn’t it? He feels like he hears it from his therapist every time he sees her.   
  
“As you can see, the woman’s head has been replaced with wild grass on this card, and in this case that grass would symbolize submission, it would symbolize the ability to bend, but not break. Inverted, however, represents that something in you, something previously unbreakable, has been broken.”   
  
What hasn’t been broken? His cheerful nature, his desire to create music, his love of life itself. Everything previously unshakeable has disappeared. His entire sense of self has been broken.   
  
“The next card,” she flips over a third, and he stifles a sob because on this card is a young girl, and his thoughts immediately shift to Hanbyul, to a guilt that’s always eaten at him for taking her brother from her, “this card is the 3 of swords, or of birds of paradise on this deck. This card represents the foundation of your problem, it’s the root of why you’re stuck. This card is intense heartbreak and pain. It’s loneliness.”   
  
He actually looses a sob finally because this is truly too much, isn’t it? How is she reading everything so accurately? How is this possible? It’s terrifying, in a way, and just when he gets it in his head to ask her to stop he feels the icy fingers on his neck move, feels them brush over his cheek, up under his eye like Hanbin’s ghost is trying to wipe his tears away.   
  
He takes a deep breath and meets her eyes, because she’s halted, waiting for him to give her the okay to go on. There’s sorrow in her eyes, but it feels different from what he’s used to seeing. He’s gotten numbed to the sympathies of strangers, numbed even to the sympathies of those close to him.   
  
But what she gives him isn’t so much sympathy, but understanding. He’s not sure if that’s even an accurate way to describe it, but her sorrow doesn’t feel overbearing. It just feels accepting.   
  
“Am I correct in assuming this man you lost was your lover?” She asks, and he has to remind himself that this isn’t Korea, and if she’s asking then she must not have a problem with homosexuality.   
  
He nods. “Yeah, he was my boyfriend.” It feels weird saying it out loud. He’s never had to name Hanbin that way to those close to him, because they know. With his therapist he uses the more formal  _ partner _ because he can’t bring himself to say the forbidden word. But she’s already called Hanbin his lover, so really, boyfriend isn’t anything more.   
  
She’s silent for a moment, like she’s waiting for him to ask her to stop the reading. But he doesn’t, so she carries on, flipping a fourth card.   
  
“The fourth card is a direct influence of the past, in this case, the Lovers.”   
  
He feels like he’s in a movie, the way everything keeps making sense. Even if she did know everything about him, how could it explain the cards she’s pulling up? It’s not possible. There wasn’t enough time to fix anything.   
  
It’s all real. Some force exists that has positioned these cards in a way that accurately depicts his life and what the loss is doing to him, and it’s terrifying.   
  
“This card doesn’t just represents an actual romantic pairing, but instead represents attraction, beauty, a fulfilling partnership in life. Not just romance, but friendship, of surrounding yourself with people who accept you for the person you are, who see your flaws and acknowledge them, because the parts of you they like are worth enduring the parts they don’t.”   
  
The card suits not just Hanbin, but the other members. It suits his family. His parents and their relationship, the one that shaped both he and his brother, that gave them belief that love is powerful, that it’s possible to love someone for your entire life despite ups and downs.   
  
“Forget-me-nots, the flower on the card, represents our crushing desire to bottle up memories and preserve them for all time. This card is telling me that you are someone who has grown up surrounded by love, with positivity and affection. Someone who believes in the power of love, and who strives to give it back to those around him.”   
  
He meets her face and she gives him a content smile, like she can see into his very soul and finds only good things there. He smiles weakly back at her.   
  
She reaches for the next card and flips it. “This card shows the future if things continue on as they are, with nothing changing on your end.” She frowns and he sits up in his chair, nervous at her reaction.   
  
“This is the seven of swords, and it represents one who has retreated from responsibility. If you don’t change anything, you will sink further into damaging thoughts, and you will let down others around you, people who depend on you. You will no longer prioritize concerns of others, you will do only what is best for yourself, even if it hurts those close to you.”   
  
He knows what it means. It means iKON. It means the group will officially break, and it means he won’t be there for them, in any way he could be. He can’t bear the thought, he knows he’s been a drain, and he knows they’ve been suffering along with him. But it’s a year, now, and they’re all ready to try and move on, but if nothing changes, they’ll move on without him.   
  
“Be wary of isolating yourself, Bobby. No good will come of it. Do not allow your grief to cage you in from others around you. It’s difficult, accepting help, but sometimes it’s not possible to grow on your own.”   
  
He nods and vows to keep the warning at the forefront of his thoughts. Besides—it’s only what will happen if he doesn’t change. Is she going to tell him what will happen if he does?   
  
“This next card is something to watch out for, something that can directly influence things, something that can change what will happen.” She flips it over to show a young boy. “The page of cups represents a messenger.”   
  
A messenger. Someone who tells him something…   
  
“Is it possible I’ve met this person?” he asks, “I mean just recently.”   
  
She gives him a curious look. “That’s a possibility, if this person has given you advice you haven’t followed yet.”   
  
“I did, though,” he stares at the card, wondering if someone else will show up? “I went to see the tomb after some guy told me.”   
  
“Ah, I see. Well, it’s a possibility, but there may yet be someone else you encounter soon, so keep your ears open.” She smiles and flips the next card.   
  
“If you are to overcome your current situation, this card tells you what you must do.” It’s another inverted card, and he quickly looks at her face to see her smiling. “The eight of swords. This card represents you as I believe you probably feel now, as someone who is a victim of circumstance, who is surrounded by obstacles they cannot overcome. Someone who is so burdened, they see no viable option except complete inaction, because they are too suffocated by their own grief.”   
  
He nods, because that  _ is _ how he currently feels. Or at least how he felt before the trip.   
  
“But inverted, this represents your willingness to push through those obstacles, to clear a path forward through any means necessary. Someone who has not given up the ability to fight. Someone who must learn to accept that which has happened and is out of their control.”   
  
Which means that if he wants to get over Hanbin, then he needs to let him go. It’s something he’s always known, of course, but it’s still oddly sobering to see it come up.   
  
“This next card is an indirect influence of your current environment. Something that will help, if you open yourself up to it.” She flips it and smiles. “Ah, this is a good card, the Star! It is promise, hope, it is optimism itself. This card represents a re-orienteering, a gathering of the self. The Lotus flower is an important symbol, in some religions it represents rebirth and resurrection. There is positivity available to you in your life, if only you choose to allow it to guide you.”   
  
He grins at her explanation and thinks about Donghyuk, about breakfast and shoe shopping. Thinks about Yunhyeong engaging him in his rambled theory that Hanbin was with him at the cemetery. Thinks about the picture Hanbyul drew him, an angel Hanbin standing between them holding their hands.   
  
Even in grief there are moments of lightness that could change everything, if only he sees them as rungs of the ladder he must climb on his way up out of the darkness.   
  
“This ninth card represents how you envision the situation resolving, how your own desires would shape the future.” She flips it and suddenly all of the positivity he’d just felt slips away, because the card staring him back is not at all the card he wants, it’s the worst card, it can’t possibly represent his thoughts, it can’t—   
  
“Death. I see the worry on your face, Bobby, but it doesn’t need to be there. Death in the tarot does not represent death itself, but instead transformation, transition. It is the removal of unhealthy feelings. The creation of space for future blessings. This card means that your deepest desire is moving on, of putting your grief behind you. The poppies are a symbol of that, of death, sleep, and peace. You want to let go. It’s a good card for your situation.”   
  
He feels calmed by her explanation. He’d been afraid, at first, that it had meant his own death. He’s never once thought about taking his life, though he’s often had thoughts about how he’s supposed to go on without Hanbin. But the card is good. It’s positive. He can breathe.   
  
“Our final card is the outcome itself, based on whether or not you follow the advice of your reading. This outcome is not fixed, though, but it only shows you a glimpse of what could happen if you take this reading to heart.”   
  
She flips the card and smiles. “The Fool. This is a good card for you, I feel very positive about it. The card represents taking a leap of faith. You must let go of the fear and excuses we cultivate as adults, and return to a childlike innocence and curiosity. You must believe in the unbelievable. The rosebud on the card is that moment before a flower blooms, where it is ripe with possibility.”   
  
He’s not sure he understands what it means, though. He’s going to take a leap of faith and do what, exactly? What does she mean by believe in the unbelievable?   
  
Before he’s about to ask he feels the fingers again, brushing over his cheek, over his lips, and suddenly he remembers the myth, and he understands.   
  
Hanbin  _ is _ here.   
  
Bobby has to find a way to lead him back from the afterlife. It all makes sense. The Messenger was the singer, telling him about the myth. He has to remain positive, he has to let optimism buoy him into belief, has to remove the unhealthy grief in his heart so he has room to believe that he’ll bring Hanbin back.   
  
He smiles at her, suddenly filled with a sense of knowing what he has to do.   
  
He has to recreate their last day together, on the day of Hanbin’s death, and this time he has to choose differently. This time he has to time it all so Hanbin doesn’t die.   
  
He’ll be Orpheus, and he’ll remember.   
  
_ Don’t look behind. Don’t look over your shoulder. Just lead him back. _   
  


* * *

  
It’s easier said than done, of course. For one—how is he supposed to explain it to the others? Because he’s certain that he needs to do it by himself. He needs to be alone. He remembers that last day together, remembers everything they did. Does he try to explain, or should he just disappear in the morning? It would be a terrible thing to do to them, but if it works out in the end it will all be worth it, won’t it?   
  
He goes to sleep that night without a plan, but with the belief that when he wakes up the next morning the answer will simply present itself.   
  
Believe in the unbelievable.   
  
He wakes up early the next morning to a still slumbering Jinhwan in the bed next to his, and he feels it, deep down in his heart, that he just has to trust to chance. He writes Jinhwan a note, tells him that he has something important he needs to do. He leaves the note tucked under Jinhwan’s phone before leaving the room, and even though it’s been hot and humid the past few days he still brings the grey hoodie he’d been wearing last year.   
  
He doesn’t feel guilty about leaving them for the day and that spurs him on, makes him think that he must be doing the right thing, otherwise his conscience would be eating at him. He leaves his hotel and begins the journey across the French Quarter, heading over to the Marigny district, to The Ruby Slipper Cafe where he and Hanbin had begun their day, one year ago.   
  
Everything hits him like a slap across the face when he enters, because he almost swears that everything is just…   
  
The same.   
  
It’s exactly the same as it was one year ago. He doesn’t mean the decor, but the  _ people. _ There’s a girl with bright purple hair sitting at a table that he members seeing. There, at the bar, are the two men who get up and leave just in time for he and Hanbin to sit down.   
  
Without waiting for the hostess, Bobby walks over to the bar and sits down in one of the vacated seats.   
  
He orders the stuffed French toast.   
  
And the Eggs Cochon.   
  
No one sits in the empty seat next to him.   
  


* * *

  
After breakfast he walks down Frenchmen Street wearing his hoodie, because the temperature dropped fifteen degrees while he was inside. He walks slowly, pausing to admire the pretty architecture, stops to peruse through a street artists’ batch of sketches. He turns onto Chartres Street and walks through a quieter residential neighbourhood until he gets to the walled in garden that had attracted Hanbin’s attention last year.   
  
It’s an old convent, and he enters through the gate, pausing to read the sign. It’s $5 to go through the museum, and he takes out his wallet. He passes a $10 bill to the lady working at the gate and continues on before she can try to give him his change.   
  
He walks slowly through the garden, takes a few pictures on his phone. He enters the house that’s been converted into a museum and wanders through the halls, pausing to read the plaques. At the end of one hall is the entrance to the church, and he enters and sits down in the third pew, and he remembers sitting there with Hanbin.   
  
_ “Do you want to get married in a church one day?” Hanbin asks, and Bobby gives him a weird look. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Don’t remember saying I ever wanted to get married.” He’s teasing in his reply, of course, and it makes Hanbin grin. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Okay hypothetically say you do want to get married, would you do it in a church?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ He pauses before answering, because he hasn’t figured out why Hanbin’s asking. “I dunno, I mean it would be nice.” He leaves out the part about how it probably wouldn’t be possible, because the churches in Korea don’t really do gay weddings. Nor does the country even recognize them. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I think it would be nice to get married in one of those big old European cathedrals,” Hanbin answers, looking up at the stained glass windows, “you know, like maybe in France, or Germany, Spain, or Portugal.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Bobby grins and shakes his head. “Yeah? What makes those cathedrals so special?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Hanbin grins back at him and winks, before looking back at the stained glass. “They’re old, and beautiful, really fancy.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “That all?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Yeah. Well, that and the fact that those countries all recognize same sex marriage.” _   
  
Bobby had panicked for a brief second after Hanbin had said it, wondering if he’d been about to propose something insane (much desired, but still insane, given their jobs). But Hanbin had just laughed at him and said he’d settle for the top of a mountain, and they hadn’t touched the subject again.   
  
Bobby thought about it now. Would he and Hanbin have lasted that long? Would they have carried on through their careers, through their military services, and waited until they were out of the music scene? Would they have married each other, one day?   
  
He thinks about his parents, still happily married after a lifetime together. He thinks about Hanbin’s parents, who went through struggles of their own, but got through them with their love still intact.   
  
He wants that. He wants marriage, and he wants kids of his own, and he wants them with Hanbin. He doesn’t know if they’d ever find a church that would do it, but then he doesn’t mind Hanbin’s mountaintop either.   
  
He closes his eyes and listens to the organ music, loses himself in the sound, and in memories. His eyes seem to be on a schedule of their own and they open exactly when they need to in order to keep last year’s schedule. He leaves the convent, holding the door open at the gate for a family pushing a child in a stroller, and he remembers the little girl’s rabbit toy from a year ago.   
  
Before leaving he goes to sign the guestbook, and his heart pounds in his chest because there it is, one line above where he’s going to write his name, the messy scrawl bringing tears to his eyes.   
  
_ Kim Hanbin—hi from korea!! it was pretty, thank you for being open :) _   
  
He remembers that line, remembers teasing him about it, remembers Hanbin’s answer—   
  
_ “Thank you for being open? What did you think they’d close when they saw us coming?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Hanbin grins at him before linking their arms together. “For being open to the public, for being open to people of different backgrounds and religions. For being open-minded.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Bobby just smiles at the answer. _   
  
He signs his name underneath, and as soon as he passes through the gate he feels the fingers on his neck, feels them as they run over his shoulder and feels the weighty presence of an arm wrapped around his own.   
  
He walks slowly up Ursulines Avenue, stops in at the Croissant D’Or Patisserie, where he buys two sandwiches and two bottles of water, and he sits outside in the courtyard and eats them both.   
  


* * *

  
After spending a few hours wandering through art galleries and boutique stores, he finds himself over on St. Charles avenue, waiting to board the old fashioned streetcar. He has the fondest memories of exactly this moment on their trip, but he’s tried so hard to repress them because they happened mere hours before the murder.   
  
The streetcar is old, with wooden benches on the inside and windows that open for the perfect breeze. They’d taken the streetcar because they’d been tired of walking, but Hanbin had still wanted to go to the Audubon Park Zoo. They’d ended up ignoring the zoo altogether because the streetcar ride had been too perfect.   
  
He boards the streetcar when it arrives, sitting near the back, far behind the other occupants. He sits on the right side, but he leaves a space next to the window. For Hanbin.   
  
He puts his arm on the back of the seat and watches as the buildings go by on the other side. When they’d first boarded, they hadn’t been expecting much, but after a few stops the buildings become houses, and Hanbin had nudged him at one point to look out the window.   
  
They’d played a game after that—pick your dream home. The homes in the Faubourg district were large and decadent, bright colours with wraparound verandas and iron-wrought balconies.   
  
He’d laid his head against Hanbin’s shoulder and held his hand as they oohed and ahed over each new house, trying to keep track of their favourites. He’d thought about Hanbin’s question in the church, thought about marriage and kids and a long life lived together, and he’d never felt more in love with Hanbin than he’d felt during that streetcar ride.   
  
The timing had been perfect. They’d done the trip out to Carrollton in the daylight, the sun just in its setting stage. On the way back lamps started turning on, and a few times Hanbin had craned his head back to kiss him, and Bobby had been about to suggest that they should maybe look at real estate while they were there, because he could see himself coming back. Could see himself getting caught up in the romance of the Garden District.   
  
He leaves the streetcar with a pang in his chest, because this has to work out. It just has to.   
  
He looks at the time on his phone and wonders, then, why Jinhwan hasn’t texted him yet. None of the others have contacted him once during the day. Are they just going to let him stay away as he long as he needs? Aren’t they worried?   
  
Or maybe, if everything else is the same as it was a year ago, maybe Jinhwan hasn’t texted him today because Jinhwan isn’t actually here anymore.   
  
Maybe it really is a year ago, and the others are back in Korea.   
  
But the date on his phone says it’s the current year, and when he opens his messaging app all of the conversations are there. He probably shouldn’t be looking at those.   
  
He walks up towards Bourbon Street, stopping along the way to watch a ten piece jazz band of high school kids play on a street corner in front of a rather large crowd. His heart swells when he sees the very same gay couple swing dancing in front of everyone, remembers the way he and Hanbin both had tightened their arms around each other as they watched the two men dance on the street to raucous applause.   
  
He continues up Canal, walks by a McDonald’s and recalls the way Hanbin had elbowed him in the ribs when he’d asked if they could stop to get burgers.   
  
_ “We come all the way to New Orleans and you want fucking McDonald’s?” _   
  
The glare had been murderous, and in the end he keeps walking, because he knows that Hanbin had been right. They’d found somewhere worth stopping.   
  
Five minutes later and he’s being seated at the Red Fish Grill, at exactly the same table he’d sat at last year, with exactly the same waiter.   
  
He orders the Alligator Boudin Balls to start, and isn’t surprised when it comes out accompanied by an order of Turducken Gumbo. The waiter hesitates, almost like he’s confused to see him alone. He asks him if he ordered the gumbo, and when Bobby says no, he tells him to have it anyway.   
  
He grins when he remembers Hanbin ordering it.   
  
_ “Yeah, I know I just said I was going to get oysters, but I can’t not try this.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Bobby shakes his head. “You’re such a sucker.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Hanbin isn’t swayed by his disapproval, though, and his eyes are bright as he stirs his spoon around in the soup. “I’m doing it just to say I did it. I mean I can get oysters anywhere, we’ll go to the fanciest oyster place tomorrow and I’ll have oysters. Where else am I getting Turducken Gumbo?” _   
  
The alligator is every bit as spicy as he remembers it, and he even tries the Gumbo. It’s good too, and if it weren’t for the steak he still has to order, he’d eat the rest of it. Maybe he’ll get it to go.   
  
And when the waiter brings him an order of grilled redfish along with his steak later, Bobby swears that the icy fingers that have been there on his neck all day aren’t quite so cold anymore.   
  
In the end the waiter boxes up the redfish and the gumbo for him to take with him when he leaves, but at the last second he decides to leave them there after all, because he hadn’t taken them last year, and he doesn’t want to deviate.   
  
He leaves the restaurant and is surprised when he feels the not-quite-so-cold anymore fingers trail from the back of his neck down his arm, and his heart skips a beat when he feels them interlace with his own fingers.   
  


* * *

  
He’s just turned onto Conti Street and passes a group of already drunk college kids that he remembers, and despite the fact that the moment is creeping ever closer he’s surprised at how calm he feels. The ghostly hand is back at his neck again, and Bobby wonders if Hanbin’s spirit can feel the moment approaching. Does it know what’s about to happen? Or has it just been following him around because it misses him?   
  
He turns left onto Decatur Street and pauses for a moment, his eyes on Big Easy Daquiris. They hesitated here for a moment, didn’t they? To argue about their nightcap? The past year all happened because Bobby had smelled pizza. Even now his stomach grumbles for it, and he watches as a woman wearing a blue dress walks up to the counter. He’d ordered just after her.   
  
He takes a deep breath and continues on down Decatur, he doesn’t enter the slushie place. He hopes he’s doing the right thing, hopes he hasn’t misunderstood.   
  
Seconds later he hears the blast of a gun and he hears people scream, and just as he’s about to turn around he feels the fingers on his neck turn cold again, feels the ever present breath on his ear stop, as though ghost Hanbin is holding his breath.   
  
_ Don’t turn around. Don’t look behind you. _   
  
He doesn’t. He remembers in time, and even though part of him desperately wants to know what happened he keeps walking. He makes it to Jackson Square and he realizes then that the fingers on his neck aren’t cold anymore. They’re warm again.   
  
The host at Cafe du Monde seats him outside at a table and he orders beignets and a coffee. But then the waiter looks at the chair across from him, the chair that is  _ empty, _ and he nods at no one, but writes something down on his pad.   
  
Bobby stares at the empty chair, his breath shallow, until the waiter returns.   
  
He lays down  _ two _ plates of beignets, and  _ two _ cups of coffee, and Bobby doesn’t miss it when the waiter says “Enjoy your beignets, gentlemen!”   
  
He sits at the table in shock, his eyes still staring ahead into an empty spot. But then he looks down at his plate, at the fried French style doughnuts covered in icing sugar, and he feels a jolt of energy course through him suddenly. There, on the plate, in the mound of sugar, is a message.   
  
_ eat :) _   
  
Is it possible that he’s just imagining everything? Is it all just a dream? Is he really back at the hotel, still asleep in the bed next to Jinhwan’s? Is he having drunken fever dreams again, the kind he’s going to wake up from screaming?   
  
_ eat! :) _   
  
A nervous laugh escapes him when he sees the added exclamation mark.   
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll eat.” He whispers the response and picks up one of the beignets, biting into it and closing his eyes. It’s deliciously sweet and warm, and he wonders if that’s proof that he’s not imagining all of this. Can you taste when you dream? Does everything feel so real?   
  
He stuffs the rest of the first beignet in his mouth, chews it up and swallows it down with coffee. He stares at the empty seat again, and wonders what it all means.   
  
Did the waiter see Hanbin? Can everyone else see Hanbin, except for himself? Or would he see Hanbin if he looked over his shoulder? Would he see him and then lose him again, a second time?   
  
He’s not willing to take the chance, so he keeps his head firmly forward as he finishes his plate and sips his coffee.   
  


* * *

  
He walks up St. Ann Street, passes by people having their fortunes read by overly dramatic fortune tellers and tarot card readers stationed around Jackson Square. He’d left Cafe du Monde without thinking about where he was supposed to go next, because they’d never made it this far in the night. He’d spent his night at the police station before going to the hospital himself, being treated for shock. He’s obviously not going to either of those places.   
  
But once he gets to Bourbon Street again he suddenly turns right and then he realizes where he’s going.   
  
Lafitte’s Guest House.   
  
Here’s the thing, though. He doesn’t have a reservation, and it’s always booked. What’s he supposed to do, sleep outside the room in the hall?   
  
But as soon as he enters the man behind the counter greets him as though he knows him.   
  
“Back for the night, guys?”   
  
Bobby’s confused by the plural and almost looks around before he remembers not to. Before he remembers that everyone else can apparently see Hanbin.   
  
“Yeah, had a long day,” Bobby says in greeting, before stepping up to the desk, “listen, uh, I think we left our key in the room today—”   
  
“No problem, let me give you the spare,” the desk clerk says, and Bobby’s eyes go wide as he searches for the extra room key and hands it over. “Here you go! Just drop it back at the desk in the morning, if you don’t mind.”   
  
Bobby nods and can barely keep himself together as he makes for the stairs.   
  
He really is back at that night, isn’t he? He wishes he’d looked for a calendar at the front desk, but maybe he’s better off not seeing it.   
  
He unlocks the door to their room—the haunted room—but remembers the mirrored dresser across from the door, so he doesn’t turn on the lights and he keeps his eyes averted, just in case. He stands beside the bed and strips his hoodie off, throwing it on the floor, before tossing his shirt down on top of it. He kicks off his shoes and bends down to pull off his socks. He can still feel Hanbin’s hand on his neck, fingertips trailing down his back now.   
  
When is he allowed to look at him?   
  
_ The poppies are a symbol of that, of death, sleep, and peace. _   
  
The words come back to him suddenly, words he barely remembers hearing earlier at his card reading.   
  
_ Sleep, and peace. _   
  
He shimmies out of his jeans and leaves them on the floor, crawling into the bed in only his boxers. He closes his eyes and hears footsteps in the room, walking around to the other side of the bed.   
  
Hanbin, or the Lafitte ghost?   
  
He keeps his eyes screwed shut when he feels a dip in the bed, not willing to look, in case it’s not time.   
  
_ Dear Lord, please let me wake up from this tomorrow and have him back. Please don’t let me wake up alone, don’t let me wake up back in the other hotel with Jinhwan. Please don’t punish me for walking this dark path today. Please, just let everything be okay. _   
  
He falls asleep without opening his eyes.   
  


* * *

  
He wakes up the next morning to the sound of footsteps on the floor. He holds his breath and listens, but they’d stopped as soon as he’d understood what he was hearing. He remembers everything, remembers the entire day spent retracing their footsteps, remembers falling asleep with someone lying in the bed across from him.   
  
He’s afraid to open his eyes today. Afraid to see that maybe he’s not where he wants to be. Maybe he’s woken up and the footsteps he heard were Jinhwan’s, except…   
  
That hotel had carpeted floors. The floors here are wooden. He wouldn’t be able to hear Jinhwan walking in their room, so that must mean that he’s not there. He’s still at Lafitte’s Guest House.   
  
He waits for a few more minutes but hears nothing. Had he even heard anything at all? He’s beginning to doubt it, assuming instead it may have been someone walking in the room above him. The walls are thin here, he’d probably hear it.   
  
He’s lying on his left side, which means he’s facing the centre of the bed. If he opens his eyes, he’ll see him—Hanbin, or whoever climbed into bed with him the night before.   
  
But what if he opens his eyes and no one is there? What if it didn’t work? Or what if it did work, but it didn’t work the way he wanted it to? What if Hanbin has returned, but he hasn’t fully returned?   
  
What if he’s brought back some half-dead zombie? What if it’s like the ring in the Harry Potter books, where you can bring a person back from the dead, but they’re not really back at all? What if he sees Hanbin lying across from him, sunken in cheeks and tinted-blue skin?   
  
He pinches himself to stop the panic from rising any higher. He’s getting all worked up, potentially for nothing. Maybe Hanbin is lying across from him, all warm skin and messy hair, waiting to be kissed awake like some fairytale?   
  
He should just open his eyes and get it over with. He needs to see what’s there. Needs to see who is there.   
  
But a sudden dread washes over him, and instead of opening his eyes he’s filled with the instinct to roll out of the bed and  _ run. _ Whatever is lying across from him should not be here. It’s not right, it’s not how the world works.   
  
But he’s created it, whatever it is. It’s his responsibility now, and he has to see it through.   
  
He takes a deep breath and counts backwards in his head, uses a meditative trick his therapist taught him for when he feels overwhelmed with sadness. As soon as he finishes the countdown he opens his eyes, slowly blinking into sight, only to see—   
  
Nothing. There’s no one there.   
  
A wave of sadness punches him in the gut and he can feel tears pool in his eyes, he can feel a scream build itself up in his throat at the sheer unfairness of the whole situation, because it’s bullshit, he did everything he was supposed to do, he followed the rules, he was supposed to get him back!   
  
But suddenly there’s a sound right behind him, the floorboard creaks, and terror swells in his chest for the briefest of seconds before suddenly he’s attacked, he’s pounced on by a large, warm-bodied creature probably sent by God himself to punish him for his foray into voodoo—   
  
But it’s no creature at all.   
  
It’s Hanbin.   
  
“Oh God Jiwon,  _ your face!” _ Hanbin squeals with laughter and Bobby can’t help but cry, because  _ he’s there. _ He’s warm, and he’s there, right in front of him, he’s real, he’s noisy.   
  
“Hyung?” Hanbin stops laughing immediately, sits up in concern and reaches a hand for him, and Bobby shudders when he feels those warm, soft fingers trace over his cheek. “Are you okay?”   
  
Bobby grabs his hand and pulls on his arm and Hanbin comes to him, sinks right down in front of him on the bed. Bobby cups his face in his hands and stares into Hanbin’s dark eyes, feels overwhelmed. “You’re here,” he whispers, sucks in a breath to staunch the sob he’s about to let loose.   
  
“Where else am I supposed to be?” Hanbin asks, his tone serious.   
  
Bobby sits up suddenly and reaches for his phone. Looks at the date—one year ago.   
  
He opens up his KKT thread with Jinhwan, looks at the last message and sucks in his breath. It’s not the message he expects to see, it’s not the text from Jinhwan asking him where he is, sent when Bobby was having his reading done.   
  
Instead it’s a response to a picture Bobby sent him, of he and Hanbin holding flashing skull mugs from Spirits On Bourbon the night before. He reads Jinhwan’s message.   
  
_ cuuuuuute ♥♥♥ _   
  
He closes the messaging app and opens his picture gallery, and gone are the pictures he’d just taken days ago—instead there are only pictures of he and Hanbin, partying on Bourbon Street. He and Hanbin, on a swamp tour.   
  
He looks at the date again.   
  
It’s the day after. The day after Hanbin was supposed to die.   
  
And he’s alive.   
  
“Seriously Jiwon, you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Hanbin sits up and takes his phone out of his hands, lays it on the bed.   
  
Bobby looks at him and doesn’t even know how to begin explaining the situation. Hanbin wouldn’t believe him anyway.   
  
“Shouldn’t have let you have that coffee before bed,” Hanbin grins, “this whole alcohol and coffee mix is not working out for you.”   
  
Bobby grins back at him and laughs, mostly out of shock, because what else can he do?   
  
“I’m sorry, Bin,” he replies finally, “I just, I had a really terrible dream.”   
  
“What happened?” Hanbin looks at him like he’s fragile, and it feels so weird to Bobby.   
  
“You died,” Bobby replies, because why not explain it as a dream? “I dreamt that you died, and it was the worst thing ever.”   
  
Hanbin just rolls his eyes, though. “You are so lucky I’m not superstitious,” Hanbin replies with a grin, “I think our near brush with that guy last night must have influenced your dreams.”   
  
“What guy?” Bobby knows, in the back of his head, what Hanbin’s talking about. But he never found out what happened the night before.   
  
“The one who shot the wall outside the slushie place? The place you wanted to get pizza from last night?” Hanbin lays down and pulls Bobby down next to him. “It’s so weird to think about, I read about it this morning when I woke up. Can you imagine if we’d stopped? One of us might have gotten hit. That guy’s lucky he missed and only shot the wall. I mean he’ll still get charged for attempted murder, and I hope he gets whatever help he needs.”   
  
Bobby listens and feels the cold clench of apprehension ease from around his shoulders, because there’s his answer.   
  
He saved Hanbin, but didn’t have to sacrifice a stranger. Everything is okay.   
  
“So, are you okay now? Now that we’ve dissected your dream and blamed it on alcohol, coffee, sugar, and the news?” Hanbin teases him, and Bobby finally lets himself believe that everything really is okay.   
  
He wraps his arm around Hanbin’s back and snuggles into his chest, pressing a kiss over his tattoo. “Yeah, I’m good.”   
  
“You sure? Sure you don’t need a good dose of morning sex to make it all better?” Hanbin teases again and Bobby is suddenly very aware of the erection he’s sporting, and he grinds himself against Hanbin’s leg.   
  
“Well, now that you put it that way, it couldn’t hurt.”   
  
Hanbin brushes the hair back off his forehead and kisses him. “I’m topping though, since you’re in a state of emotional distress.”   
  
He grins into Hanbin’s skin and laughs.   
  


* * *

  
The cool weather breaks that morning and by the time the afternoon rolls around they’re walking in the blistering heat of the sun, and Hanbin whines that he wants something cold, and that’s when Bobby realizes where they are.   
  
Back on Decatur Street, a block away from Big Easy Daiquiris.   
  
He’s spent the day in a bit of a daze. The longer he spends with Hanbin, the more convinced he is that maybe it really was just a dream? Maybe he dreamed up an entire year of loss last night. Maybe it was the weird combination of alcohol, sugared doughnuts, and coffee.   
  
They stop inside a candy store because Hanbin wants to buy some southern candy for his family before they fly back to Korea. As Hanbin’s talking to someone about creating an assortment Bobby’s browsing the shelves, but his attention is drawn to a very familiar woman with brown hair.   
  
It’s Michelle, the tarot card reader.   
  
He keeps his cool, because this will prove everything, won’t it? Surely she’ll recognize him if she sees him, because he doubts she sees that many Korean men in her shop. But if she doesn’t recognize him, then it means it was all a dream.   
  
She looks up at him when the thought crosses his mind and immediately her face is lit up in a smile. He panics when she walks towards him, because this means that everything…   
  
“Hello Bobby,” she greets him, “it’s good to see you again.”   
  
He smiles back at her but doesn’t know what to say. It’s a year ago.  _ He hasn’t met her yet _ . How does she know him already?   
  
“I see you followed the advice of our reading, then?” she asks, and smiles when he still can’t bring himself to answer. She looks from him to the counter, she looks at Hanbin. “That’s him, isn’t it?”   
  
Bobby still doesn’t know what to say, and when she finally looks back at him all he can do is nod.   
  
She doesn’t seem to mind, though. “I’m glad you brought him back. He has a very good aura around him, it’s very positive.”   
  
For some reason that just makes him smile, and he suddenly decides then and there that it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Not the  _ hows, _ or the  _ whys, _ none of it.   
  
All that matters is that yesterday Hanbin was supposed to die. But he didn’t. Bobby saved him and now he’s here, he’s standing at the counter ordering chocolates for his little sister, and Bobby thinks that maybe today he’ll ask Hanbin if he wants to look at real estate in New Orleans.   
  
“Hold on to him, Bobby, he’s good for you.” Michelle touches his shoulder and smiles again before moving to the counter to make her purchases. Bobby abandons the boxes on the shelves and joins Hanbin at the counter, slips an arm around his waist as he stands next to him. Hanbin smiles at him and reciprocates, and Bobby smiles when his eyes find Michelle one last time, who’s watching them with a pleased expression.   
  
Back outside Bobby suddenly remembers something else she’d said during the reading that he hadn’t quite understood at the time.   
  
_ Right place, wrong time. _   
  
“Hey, Bin, you wanna go get a slushie?” He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but Hanbin shakes his head and looks down the street.   
  
“Do you think it’s open after last night? Won’t they be doing an investigation?”   
  
“What would they be investigating? They caught the guy, right?” He’d read about it over lunch earlier.   
  
“True, let’s go check it out.” They head closer to the place and sure enough it’s open for business, as though nothing had happened the night before. Except for the freshly plastered spot on the wall that the bullet must have hit.   
  
They hold hands as they enter the slushie place, and Bobby feels like it’s all surreal at the moment, being here with a still breathing Hanbin. They step up to the counter and Hanbin orders a Peach Bellini. Bobby orders the Hurricane, because that’s the real test, isn’t it? He’d come in for the Hurricane the first time.   
  
But he watches their surroundings like a hawk, aware of everyone he can see. But nothing is threatening, nothing is waiting to rip Hanbin away from him again.   
  
They get their drinks and leave, standing outside the place under the overhang, just in the shade. Bobby’s eyes are on Hanbin as he sips his drink, and he wonders if he’ll ever get over it, if he’ll ever be able to look at Hanbin and not remember the year of loss he endured? Will he ever forget about it, or will it always be there, reminding him to never take what he has for granted?   
  
“Hey, Jiwon, I’ve been thinking lately, and I know that maybe this is kind of stupid, but if I don’t talk about it I think I’ll drive myself crazy.”   
  
Bobby swallows nervously, wonders if this is the moment, if this is what she’d meant by  _ right place, wrong time. _   
  
“What are you thinking?”   
  
Hanbin’s eyes are serious. “I know that we’re under contract, and we can’t really do anything official, and even if we could, if we did it might be career suicide. But I just keep thinking that things never change, not until people step up and make them change.”   
  
Bobby listens in silence, thinks he can guess where Hanbin is going with this.   
  
“I’m not saying that I think we should come out, but,” Hanbin hesitates and meets Bobby’s eyes, tries to gauge his reaction, “I think we should come out.”   
  
Bobby wishes Hanbin wasn’t holding the bag of chocolates, because he’d like to be holding his hand instead. “Hanbin, whatever you want to do, I agree.”   
  
“Seriously?” Hanbin clearly isn’t expecting the agreement, and Bobby can’t help but smile at the look on his face.   
  
“Seriously.” Bobby thinks back to their discussion (yesterday, or a year ago, he’s not sure anymore) when they were sitting inside the church. “On one condition.”   
  
“Name it.” Hanbin replies, lightning quick, like his life depends on it.   
  
“When we get married one day, let’s do it in one of those fancy European cathedrals?” He’s serious when he says it, but Hanbin rolls his eyes like he thinks he’s teasing him.   
  
“I’m serious, hyung!”   
  
He reaches out and wraps a hand around Hanbin’s arm, waits until Hanbin is looking at him. “So am I. I want to marry you, one day. I want us to be together for life, with kids, and a vacation home in New Orleans.”   
  
This time it’s Hanbin’s eyes that fill up with tears, and Bobby pulls him closer, tucks an arm around him and kisses his cheek. “I love you, Bin, I don’t ever want to lose you.”   
  
“Ah, you’re just sentimental because of that stupid dream.”   
  
Bobby grins and kisses him again. “Maybe, maybe not. Let’s talk about it with the guys when we get back, okay?”   
  
“Okay.” Hanbin leans his head against Bobby’s and finally smiles. “They’ll probably talk us out of it.”   
  
Bobby laughs. “Probably.”   
  
Neither of them really expect they’d make the decision to come out, not right away. But maybe Bobby could still convince him to look at houses here. Just to get an idea of the price.   
  
Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics to the song sung in the bar (that mention Eurydice and Orpheus) are mine. ♥
> 
> The other song referenced in the slushie place that I wrote a line from is "I Follow Rivers" by Lykke Li.
> 
> I'd meant to include another song in this, and it's the inspiration for "right place, wrong time". That song is "Ready/Problems" by Boy Pablo.
> 
> I highly recommend both songs. ♥


End file.
